


Tickled Pink

by SlimeAndSnails



Series: Audacity [3]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: And someone's ribcage, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lucifer's Death Glares, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Tickling, Oops, Other, Tickling, but not like in a gross yucky way, everyone is ticklish because i say so, gender neutral reader, it's unintentional, now with even more chaos!, oh right actual tags, only fun here, quite a few valuable things actually, someone WILL get kicked in the face, the tragic death of a priceless Ming vase, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeAndSnails/pseuds/SlimeAndSnails
Summary: Chaotic and Audacious MC is back and more powerful than ever. Sit back and enjoy as they reduce the most powerful demons in existence into puddles of frantic laughter!
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, House Of Lamentation - Relationship, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Simeon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: Audacity [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670011
Comments: 190
Kudos: 801





	1. Lucifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Lucifer gets a double-length, multi-part chapter to make up for his neglect in the previous installments! And because it's his birthday tomorrow, which is also why I'm releasing his chapter early. Happy birthday, Lucifer!  
> As always, gender-neutral. I use (_) in place of a name for the reader/mc, so feel free to grab a text replacer extension for your browser to replace that with any name you like!

It starts one day when you have to lean past (a bleary, very tired looking) Lucifer at 5 in the morning to start up the coffee pot. He’s just sort of standing there and staring blankly into his empty mug, not moving out of your damn way. You poke at his back a few times with no reaction, so you just sigh and snake your arm around his side to push the buttons, pressing up against him to reach.

Lucifer’s breath catches for a moment and he makes a sort of _pffth_ sound, pushing your arm away from him and flinching away as if you’ve somehow burned him with your touch.

Okay… Weird. You hold your hands up and away from him, showing that you aren’t going to do whatever it is again.

Lucifer huffs, picking up his (still empty) mug and stepping past you. “Hmph. If you think that tickles, you’re wrong.”

You watch him leave, utterly confused. The tickling thing was weird, but the weirder part is that he left without even getting coffee. Does he have a fever or something? Did you do something to piss him off or upset him? All you did is touch him, which he doesn’t normally have that much of a problem with. He just said he isn’t ticklish, so it can’t be that.

Wait…

You feel a big, sinister grin spread across your face.

Challenge accepted.

* * *

Sometime later, you plop down by Lucifer on a sofa in the parlor. He gives you a small smile and nod before going back to the papers he’s looking through, eyes scanning them boredly.

Well, you’re certain you can make this a little more interesting for him. Carefully, like you’re approaching a wounded animal in the wild, you scoot closer to him. He flicks his eyes over to you for half a second, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment or try to stop you. So, naturally, you scoot closer. And closer. Until you’re practically pressed up against him, at which point you lean your head on his shoulder. He still doesn’t protest (let’s not examine that too much), instead just switching the papers to his other hand so his arm doesn’t jostle you when he flips pages. Such a gentleman.

“So whatcha doing?” You ask, squinting down at the paperwork.

He turns them so you can see better. “More bills. Asmo’s been upping our water usage with his long baths. _Again._ ” Lucifer sighs, setting the papers aside on the sofa. “I’ll have to talk to him about it later.”

Shifting so you can face him better, you prop your chin upon his shoulder. “I could talk to him about it. He takes bribes, you know.” You reach over and pet the back of Luci’s hair, secretly very proud that you can do so without being set on fire. “Pretty sure I could persuade him to cut his baths short.”

Lucifer shudders, leaning into your hand slightly and pretending that he isn’t. “Ugh, I don’t want to know about how you would ‘bribe’ him.”

“No, I don’t think you do. But it’ll probably just be offering to let him dress me up for a day or something. He really likes doing that,” you hum, petting him more. His eyes slip closed and he sighs quietly, shoulders relaxing.

You’ve got him right where you want him. Clearly, you are a fucking mastermind. Anyone who says otherwise is a damned liar.

Feeling like an evil genius, you quickly dance your fingers over the side of Lucifer’s neck and dig them under his fancy collar to tickle him. His reaction is immediate and violent, he slaps your hand away and leans as far from you as he can without dumping himself off the couch. And he hisses, which is completely unexpected.

You nearly fall over from the sudden loss of his supporting shoulder, barely managing to catch yourself as he quickly gathers his papers up and stands. Lucifer crosses his arms, scowling down at you like some gunk he found on the bottom of his perfectly shined shoes.

He’s blushing. Weirdly cute.

“Just what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he seethes, quickly adjusting his tie and collar from where you wrinkled it in your quest for tickles.

You sprawl out on the couch like you’d been there the whole time, grinning up at him. “Nothing. What do _you_ think I’m doing, Lu-lu?”

Lucifer glares at you. “Are you really trying to tickle me? You’ll have to do much better than that.”

“Ooh, Lucifer~! Is that a _challenge_?”

Unfortunately for you, he’s too smart to take your bait. Instead of answering, he just rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, walking away.

“Don’t have time for what?” you call after him, snorting when he turns and glares at you before rounding a corner.

From down the hallway, you hear his voice telling you to “Go bother someone else.”

“Yes sir, mister peacock man!” You shout back, saluting even though he can’t see you.

* * *

Speaking of bribing Asmo, that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.

“Oh, no. I am _not_ risking life and limb for your silly pranks, (_),” he huffs, crossing his arms and sticking out his hip. “Not without a damn good reward for it.”

You roll your eyes. “More like you’re not risking chipping a nail if you get in trouble and have to scrub the floors or something. Come on, I need bait!”

“Exactly!” He points at you with a perfectly manicured finger, narrowing his eyes. “Do you know how much effort it takes to be as perfect and beautiful as this? I mean, please.” He flicks a strand of hair behind his ear. “I have a lot to work with, I know. Nobody can measure up to me anyway, but it’s still a lot of work to maintain! Nail polish isn’t cheap.”

“Cheap nail polish is cheap.” Your retort doesn’t amuse him, based on the fact that he shudders at the thought of putting anything low-quality on his precious hands. “You’re just a wuss.”

Asmo gasps, hand flying to his chest. “Exc _use_ you? I am _not_ a wuss. _You_ just have terrible ideas!”

“Wuss! Asmo is a wuss! An absolute coward!” He slaps a hand over your mouth, ignoring your muffled snickering. You’re not deterred. “Mph. Wimm youm dwo it ifh I lmet youm maint mwy mails? I mwean, I camn stiml mo fimn Mammom if youm don’mt wamma. Or Beelm.”

He frowns at you, and you’re worried he didn’t understand your voice through his fingers. Fortunately, he’s well versed in parsing the words that come out of, shall we say, _occupied_ mouths, so he understands perfectly.

“Hmmm…” Asmo thinks very hard for a few seconds, clicking his tongue. “Okay, fine. But if Lucifer gets mad, I’m throwing you under the bus!” You nod and he takes his hand away. “And I’m _only_ doing this because I get to paint your nails.”

“Uh-huh. I believe you.”

He rolls his eyes, turning away. “Whatever. Go hide, I’ll find him.”

You nod, quickly scrambling behind a nice thick set of window curtains. Fortunately, Asmo doesn’t take too long to find Lucifer and lure him to you under the agreed-upon pretense of, and I quote, “This BIG ass cockroach. Like, seriously, it’s the size of my head, Lucifer! Go kill it! Go kill it go kill it please please please!”

Lucifer strides into the room, looking over the floor to find the BIG ass cockroach. You peek at him through a crack in the drapes, watching him inspect the room.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see any cockroach, Asmo. It’s gone.”

You hear Asmo huff pissily. “Well, it didn’t just disappear! Pleeaaase find it! I don’t want it breeding!”

Oh, the irony.

Lucifer sighs once again (he does that a lot, apparently) and keeps looking, peeking under furniture and eventually stepping closer to the drapes you’re hiding behind.

The time has come. You spring out, quickly wrapping your arms around Lucifer’s waist and digging your fingers into his sides. He stumbles to the side, but you hang onto him valiantly and begin tickling him with all your might. That is, until he manages to push you away, sending you nearly tumbling backward. Fortunately, you manage to catch yourself before falling, though with no help from him.

Lucifer glares at you, fixing his vest. “(_). I hoped I wouldn’t have to ask you this for a _second_ time today, but what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You hold up a finger like you’re about to respond, then bolt out of the room as fast as your puny human legs can carry you, barely avoiding barreling into Asmo. You’re pretty sure if you were anyone else you’d already be dead, so there’s that.

Lucifer does not chase you.

* * *

You’re tired. You tried to get even just a peep of laughter out of Lucifer all day. And then, all week. And nothing! No matter how clever your ambush or how merciless your tickles, all Lucifer does is scoff or huff and push you away.

You give up. Lucifer just isn’t ticklish, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And now, because you’re such a kind human, you’ve decided to bring him some coffee and his favorite poisoned apples to make up for it. Well, okay. It’s mostly to get back into his good graces because now any time you get within a few feet from him he cringes away from you even when you don’t go for tickles. Heartbreaking, honestly.

Carefully balancing the platter of snacks on one hand, you knock on his door. Not waiting for his response, considering he probably knows it’s you and is consequently not keen on letting you into his room, you open the door and step in.

Lucifer looks up at you from his desk, setting down his fancy pen. “(_),” he greets, immediately eyeing the tray in your hands as you push aside some papers and set it on his desk. You don’t miss how he leans away from your hands, so you clasp them behind your back.

“Lucifer.” You smile down at him as innocently as you can, which is not all that innocent if you’re completely honest. “I got you some of those apples you like, and I made some coffee for you.” He raises an eyebrow at you, looking unimpressed.

“Is this another ploy to get my guard down?” he asks, even though he’s already reaching for the steaming cup.

“Nope! This is actually an _apology_. Or a peace offering, your choice. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve given up on tickling you. My fingers are getting sore, y’ know?”

Lucifer chuckles at that, sipping his coffee. “I see. Apology-slash-peace offering accepted, then. But only because I happened to be craving these apples anyway.”

“What can I say, I’m psychic,” you grin, pushing aside more papers so you can sit on his desk. “That’s what I do. I cause trouble and I know things.”

“Emphasis on the ‘cause trouble’, of course,” he mutters to himself, downing the rest of his coffee and refilling it.

“Of course. So are we good? I’ll stop randomly attacking you and you’ll stop acting like I’m gonna pounce on you at any moment?”

“Hmm. It wasn’t acting, to be fair. But alright, I’d say we’re good,” he gives you a Look. “For now.”

You fist pump, shaking the desk with your enthusiasm. Lucifer smiles into his cup, pushing an inkwell away from you so you don’t knock it over. He seems content to let you stay, so by the time he’s finished his coffee and apples (which you carefully stay away from, you don’t know how poisonous they are and you’re not planning on finding out) you’re still perched on his desk. At this point, the edge is digging into your thigh a little more than you’d like, so you go and grab a chair so you can sit by him.

Lucifer still doesn’t kick you out, so you just start playing games on your D.D.D. and watch him continue signing papers and filling out forms until he starts to droop tiredly and presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. It was already fairly late when you came by, so it must be the middle of the night by now. The lack of sun makes it hard to tell exactly how late it is, so you check the clock on your D.D.D.. Almost 2 am. You stretch your arms up over your head, feeling a bit tired as well.

“Welp, I guess I’ll get going so you can head off to sleep,” you yawn out, standing up. “See you in the morning, man. Get some fucking sleep for once, eh?” You pat his shoulder.

Lucifer groans, looking at the time. “I can’t, I need to finish this.”

Oh no, that won’t do.

“Nuh-uh.” You put on your best Parenting Voice. “Lucifer… Uh, whatever your last name is. If you even have one. You _will_ go to sleep.”

He ignores you, going back to his papers.

“Lucifer.”

Still ignoring you.

“Lucifer!”

Not even a twitch.

“Lucifer, if you don’t get your ass out of that chair and in bed _right this instant_ I will haul you up and push you there myself. Don’t test me. I’ll do it. I’m stupid, and you know it.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Fine, you absolute toddler. I warned you.” You step up next to the chair, wrap your arms around him, and start tugging him out of the chair. He sighs, closes his pen, and lets you pull him to his feet.

“I’m only agreeing to this because I know you’ll keep badgering me,” he lies. You know how tired he’s been lately.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Now move it.” You get behind him and start pushing him towards the bed. He doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t cooperate all that much either. Eventually, you decide to just wrap your hands around his waist and guide him along.

He giggles quietly when your fingers brush up against him, then freezes up for a second. Wait. Giggles?

Lucifer pulls away from you before you can react, face turning a soft pink. “I think I can get to bed under my own power, (_). You may go,” he says, keeping his tone carefully even.

You blink. The puzzle pieces fit together.

“Oh my God- I mean, uh, goodness. Oh my goodness! I wasn’t even trying to do it this time.” You clap your hands. “You’re ticklish! All this time you were just trying to pretend you weren’t!”

He looks pained, trying to shush you. Wow, he really must be tired if he’s not scoffing and treating you like an uppity child.

“Lucifer is ticklish! This is the BEST fucking day of my life!” You bounce on your heels. “Can I tickle you? Please? I wanna see _how_ ticklish you are.” You reach for his sides, but he pushes you away again. “For science!”

“(_), no. Don’t you dare,” he growls, gritting his teeth. If this was back when you first arrived, you’d be pissing yourself in fear right now.

“I dare! Come here. I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.” You reach again. “Besides, you’re not denying it~!”

He doesn’t quite react fast enough to keep your hands away from his sides, so you manage to get in a good tickle and he giggles again, grabbing your wrists.

“Yes! Success. I am the tickle master, it is me.” You step closer to him and tickle him more. Lucifer practically doubles over, slapping at you.

“Get- Pfft, Get your hands off-” He stops to take in a breath, so you take the chance to switch it up.

You reach up and go for his neck, grinning evilly when he bursts out into helpless laughter. Absolutely adorable. “No can do, Lu-lu! I am so not letting this opportunity go to waste. You can murder me later,” you tease, pushing him onto the bed so you have more leverage. You manage to pin him down (despite his desperate squirming and a hopefully accidental smack on your leg that you’re fairly certain is going to bruise later) and keep attacking him until he’s struggling to breathe between hysterical laughter.

Only then do you stop to let him catch his breath, and he just sort of lays there limply underneath you. His murderous look is dampened by the flush on his cheeks and the sweat rolling down his face.

You cannot fucking believe this. You’re almost tempted to tell Diavolo so he can take delight in tormenting this poor peacock man, but you know Lucifer would never forgive you for that. Oh well. This is a secret you will happily take to the grave. At least when you arrive in Hell (because please, there’s no way your chaotic ass is going to Heaven) you can try it all over again.

“You… I’m not going to murder you later. I’m going to murder you right… Right now.” He reaches for you, but you easily brush his hand away and wiggle your fingers at him threateningly.

“Oh no, you aren’t. If you so much as try and tickle me back I swear on Luke’s cute little hat I will tell Lord Diavolo about how hopelessly ticklish you are. And maybe even your brothers.” You tap his chest and he stifles another quick giggle. “But! If you promise to go to bed and get some proper sleep… I’ll stop tickling you. No telling anyone about this. I won’t even attack you in public again. Sound good?”

If looks could kill, you’d be dead several thousand times over. “You are terrible,” he grumbles, pushing you off of him now that he’s had a chance to recover. “I can’t believe I’m letting you get away with this. _Fine_.”

Success! You hop up off his bed. “Pleasure doing business with you, my friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go clean up those dishes and hit the hay myself.” You point at him. “If I see so much as a dark circle tomorrow I’m tickling you in front of everyone.”

Lucifer just rolls his eyes, shooing you away. You figure you’ve officially overstayed your welcome, so you get up, grab the tray, and leave. Happy in your newfound knowledge. And especially happy in the knowledge that he didn’t seem to notice the little loophole in your agreement.

You’re going to have so much fun tickling him in the future. In private, of course. Because you did say you wouldn’t attack him in _public_ , after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drapes ambush was originally gonna be MC jumping onto him from the chandelier after getting Asmo to airlift them up to it, based off of the idea coming up in an OM discord I admin. But then I was like... how will they not break their fucking legs and/or poor Luci’s spine? So I might write that as a bonus installment if y’all like. Side note, should I keep posting this chapter-by-chapter for more even updates or should I keep posting the brothers all in one go and then release the side characters as I go along? Let me know in the comments section!


	2. Mammon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mammon is the second brother. 2x tickling combo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to publish this one and the next installment chapter-by-chapter to see how it goes. I think I might feel more confident writing longer chapters if I do it this way since I won't feel as bad about having such a big gap between posting because of the sheer volume of writing everything at once. That being said, would you like to see the brothers out of order at any point, or would you like to keep the current formula?

All-in-all, provoking demon lords is probably not a great idea. Especially if they’re theoretically extremely powerful and deadly. And especially if you haven’t seen the full scope of their power. For all you know they can literally kill you with a look.

Is that going to stop you? Hell the fuck no.

“Quit touchin’ me!”

“I’m  _ not _ touching you!”

“I said quit!”

“I’m not fucking touching you!”

“Yes, you are!”

You hold your fingers just a short distance from Mammon’s shoulder, wiggling your fingers at him. “I’m not.” From the chair on your other side, Lucifer sighs and flips a newspaper page much more loudly than necessary. Seriously, who reads newspapers anymore anyway? What a grandpa. You pay him no attention and continue tormenting Mammon.

He slaps your hand away, growling at you viciously. It’s adorable, like a kitten hissing and spitting at you despite being completely unthreatening. That line of thinking is probably why you get nearly murdered regularly, but it’s not like you care right now. You snicker, moving to carefully almost-touch his stomach instead.

“Y’know, Mammon. I can certainly  _ actually _ touch you, if you really want me to~,” you tease, giving him an unnecessarily pronounced wink. Belphie gags theatrically from behind his omelet that Beel is all too happy to polish off for him, Asmo makes a delighted noise that makes you feel just a bit unclean, and Satan rolls his eyes so hard you think they might go careening through his brain and out into space. Mammon turns a shade of red so deep you think he might actually pop a few blood vessels in his cheeks.

“Wh- Y- What!?” He manages to stammer out, not even noticing when you actually give him a little poke. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Ah, sweet innocence. You rarely see it these days.

“Well…” You turn towards him. “Would you like me to demonstrate?” (Belphie gags even louder and you’re pretty sure Asmo just opened the camera app on his D.D.D.)

Before he can respond, you’re on the attack. You shove your hand up his shirt and start tickling his stomach like you’re being paid for it. Mammon shrieks and jumps so hard he slams his knee into the table and almost sends it flying. Lucifer manages to slam a hand down on it before it tips too far, so you take the opportunity to get out of your chair and start tickling Mammon with both hands, leaving him flailing and bursting into uncontrollable giggles. Adorable. You dodge most of his frantic smacks, though he does manage to (accidentally) nail you right on the shoulder and send you off balance.

Naturally, because you have shit luck, you land right on him, knocking the wind out of both of you and sending you sprawling to the floor, limbs flying everywhere. You hear a loud thud behind you and some gasps as you make contact with the floor, but you’re not all that worried about it. You know Mammon’s durable enough to handle that kind of impact and he’s not whining or screaming for help yet (though he  _ is _ giggling madly and not even trying to push away your hands, so perhaps he’s more into it than you expected), so you just keep on tickling once you’re steady.

And then a dark, crushing, suffocating feeling washes over you and you freeze. Mammon grabs onto your arm, looking past you with sudden fear.

“(_)... We should run.”

Somehow you get the feeling he’s not joking. You turn slowly.

Lucifer is behind you. With a boot print on his jaw.

He looks  **_furious_ ** _. _

You scramble up, hauling Mammon up with you.

“Okay,” you start, holding your hands up and backing away from Lucifer slowly. “It was an accident, right? One day we’ll look back on this and laugh, right?”

There’s murder and ruin in Lucifer’s eyes. He’s beyond unimpressed, grabbing a napkin and slowly wiping the mud from Mammon’s boot off of his face. Just this morning he’d bitched at the guy for tracking gunk through the house. The irony is not lost on you, but you’re pretty sure if you laughed about it right now he might actually skin you alive, multi-dimensional diplomatic immunity be damned like your soul is soon to be if someone doesn’t de-escalate this situation as quickly as possible.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic.

“(_). Mammon.” His voice makes you jump, even though you were expecting it. “My study.  _ Now _ .”

* * *

“This is your fault.” Mammon sniffs, running his polishing cloth over the painfully expensive vase that usually sits in the music room. You can see the agony in his eyes at touching something so valuable without stealing it or pawning it off. You think it might be Ming.

You roll your eyes. “Uh huh. You’re the one who kicked him,” you grumble, polishing a candlestick that you’re fairly sure has some kind of hex on it. You feel like it’s looking at you.

“You knocked me over,” Mammon hisses indignantly, rubbing at a dull spot like it had personally insulted him and perhaps kicked his dog for good measure.

“Yeah, but  _ you _ hit me and made me lose balance!”

“You were tickling me!”

You give him a Look. He’s not cowed even a little bit, so you narrow your eyes just a bit more for added effect. “You made me do it.”

Mammon throws his cloth at you, but it just flops uselessly through the air and soars over your shoulder to smack into an oil-painted face hanging on the wall. You watch as it slides down slowly, landing on the floor with a thick  _ fthlp _ sound.

The image is so ridiculous that you both burst into surprised laughter, Mammon stifling a snort behind his hand and nearly dropping the vase. He delicately sets it down on a table and goes to get his rag back, sticking his tongue out at you as he passes.

You wiggle your fingers at him again. “Don’t make me use these,” you threaten.

He squirms, bristles, levels a hard scowl at you that’s about as convincing as a puppy carefully not looking at pillow stuffing strewn across the living room. “You wouldn’t. Lucifer’d hang us both from the chandelier if we missed his stupid deadline.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be all tied up and I’d get to see it. An encouraging thought.” You jab him in the side and he leaps away, slapping a hand protectively over the area like it’ll stop your wandering digits.

“I’ll tickle you back,” he warns as you set down your own rag and move closer to him.

“ _ Sure  _ you will.” You know you're being childish, but it's just so fun to torment him. Plus, he's so preciously ticklish and it's honestly fucking adorable.  


You pounce. He shrieks and goes down. You have to admit that he makes a valiant effort to tickle you back, but you do your best to pin his arms down. It doesn’t take him long to resign himself to his fate, giggling and letting you tickle him until he runs out of breath and taps your leg so you can release him. You climb off of him and he takes a minute to recover.

His threat was not empty, as it turns out. The second his breathing is back to normal he sits up and goes for you, but you dodge backwards, back slamming into a table.

…

Shit, that’s the table with-

“The Ming!” Mammon shrieks (right in your ear, ouch), scrambling to try and catch it. It rocks for a minute, falls the wrong direction, and his hands barely brush it as it slips and hits the floor with a tremendous crashing noise. It shatters to a million tiny pieces.

The agony you saw in Mammon’s eyes earlier is back and stronger than ever.

“... I don’t suppose it was a fake?” You try, cringing at the shards all over the floor.

“... Yeah, it wasn’t.”

A voice rings out from the next hallway over, sending icy dread up your spine.

“ **_Mammon!_ ** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overall not super happy with this chapter, but that might change as it did with Straighten Up. Who knows?


	3. Leviathan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, y’all. Ngl at the time of writing this I wasn't especially fond of Levi so my heart kinda wasn’t in this one. As a result, it's not that great imo. Sorry Levi stans, y’all deserve better.  
> In other news: NEW CHAPTERS NEW CHAPTERS AUGHDJFHDFLH

“Oh yeah? Well,  _ your  _ mother is- What?! I can’t believe you just sniped me!”

You live with toddlers.

“How do you like my rocket launcher, noob? That’s what I thought!”

Actual children.

“There’s a special place in hell for spawn campers! Trust me, I know what I’m talking about!”

You don’t suppose Leviathan’s ever heard the concept of ‘be the better man’. It sure doesn’t seem like it.

“Ell-Oh-Ell, (_), look. This guy’s just running around out in the open like an idiot!”

“That’s great, Levi,” you mumble, flipping a page. This is not how you imagined study night with Levi going, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised.

Let’s rewind.

* * *

“Levi,” you sigh, resting your arm on his shoulder. “I get what you’re saying and I respect your intentions.”

He squirms, blushing at the close contact. “So, you’ll do it?”

“Uh, no. It’s a dumb idea, my dude. You’re not even gonna pay attention and you know it,” you shrug and step out of his personal space with a pat on the back.

Levi dips his head down, fluffy bowl-cut bangs hanging over his eyes. “I will! I promise!”

You give him a doubtful look. “Levi. You know that the second I let you take the teeniest break, you'll start fucking around. Remember last time?”

“That doesn’t count-”

“ _ (_)! If you study with me I won’t be tempted to watch Ultra☆Witch Rainbow-chan! _ ” you cut him off with your worst impression of his voice. “Yeah, like that worked. Your little five-minute break turned into a three-hour marathon!”

And it had. And you’d been there for every second of it, resolutely staring at your textbook while Levi ooh-ed and aah-ed and did that weird and obnoxiously loud WHOAAAAA any time the Ultra☆Witch did something ultra witchy. It was maybe a little endearing at first, but not the 40th time in one night. Eventually, he’d finished the newest episodes, by which point you were too tired to keep studying and crashed out on a beanbag in his room. All in all, an efficiency rating of zero.

Levi looks away, shame coloring his cheeks like a young adult novel protagonist. “Yeah, w-well. That’s not going to happen this time! I promise!” And then he looks back at you, giving you huge watery puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeease? I can’t fail this exam! Lucifer said he would cut off my internet if I didn’t at  _ least _ get a B+, and I have raids all week! I know you won’t let me get too distracted.”

Damn him. And damn Mammon, for probably teaching him how effective that move is on you. He’s even got the quivering lip perfected. “Please?”

…

“Ughhhh. Fine. But I take no responsibility if you slack off,” you grumble, turning to head to his room. “And I reserve the right to get you back on track however I see fit!”

“WOOT! Score one for Levia-chan!” he cheers, pumping his fist in the air and jumping excitedly. He seems to have missed your threat.

* * *

He’s slacking off, just as predicted. You’d stepped away to grab a drink and by the time you got back he was playing a round of, believe it or not, Call of Duty. Human world edition. He must be playing against humans, then.

“One round, (_), I  _ promise _ .”

It was not one round, because he still hasn’t bothered to get out of the game. It’s been 45 minutes. You think you might be going mad.

“Levi. We have to get back to work, seriously.” You cannot believe you’re being the responsible one. Your loyalty is gonna come back to bite you on the ass one day. Or slap you on the ass. That would be much more thematically appropriate.

Levi flaps a dismissive hand at you and covers his microphone, mumbling out a quick “Shhhh, hang on. I’m trying to sneak up on this guy.”

“Levi!”

“BOOM! Headshot!”

“ **_Leviathan!_ ** ”

“Ah, what!? He set a mine! Asshole.”

You’ve never been so ignored in your life. You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. You think you’ve become a Lucifer sympathizer.

“Fine, you leave me no choice.”

Scooting over to his chair, you very carefully reach past him to where the controller is plugged into the console. Once it looks like he’s not in any immediate danger, you yank out the cord. A tiny twinge of guilt streaks through you, but you  _ did _ say you’d get him back on track.

Levi, predictably, makes an ungodly noise and scrambles to plug the cord back in, taking off his headphones so he doesn’t rip them out of the port.

Phase two is a go.

You wait until he’s out of the chair, then grab his headphones.

“Sorry, kids,” you say in your best announcer voice. “Levi’s a little busy right now, and I gotta steal him for a bit. Leave a message after the beep.”

And with that, you turn off the console.

Levi is furious, and probably a bit rightly so.

“What is  _ wrong _ with you? That was a live game! I can’t believe you just-! You-!” He can’t seem to get out the right words to convey exactly how pissed off he is, and you’re unimpressed.

“Yeah, and that’s nothing compared to what Lucifer’s gonna do if you keep failing these damn tests,” you point out, keeping your voice cool. “I told you I’d get you back on track however I saw fit.”

“But-”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Can I at least-”

You step closer to him, poking him in the chest. “Levi, I swear to everything unholy in this world, including  _ you _ , that if you so much as lay a single finger on that console again tonight I will  _ incapacitate _ you. I will tickle you within an inch of your life.”

Levi stares at you, blinking slowly. He clearly doesn’t understand. “Uh, how is that even a threat? Why tickling?”

You smirk. “I know it’s not intimidating to most people, but come on. Think of all that physical contact. I’d probably have to pin you down and everything.”

And with that, his mind seems to catch up. You can tell because he goes bright red and you think that if this were a cartoon or an anime, steam might start pouring off of his head in great fluffy clouds.

“So, you sure you don’t wanna just get back to studying?” you ask, casually inspecting your nails. A move you learned from Asmo, of course. Perfect for haughty confidence, in your opinion.

Levi doesn’t respond verbally. He simply stares at you for another second (his gaze seems to be focused on your hands) and then sits back down in his studying spot with all the grace of a Boston Dynamics robot in the process of being pushed around with a hockey stick. And keeps an eye on your fingers, just in case.

You are truly a powerful entity. Your ego has never been bigger.

* * *

“Okay, I gotta take a second,” you sigh, craning your neck until it makes a slightly painful popping sound. “I’ve been sitting here for hours.”

Levi nods at you numbly, gnawing on the end of his pencil (gross) with his surprisingly sharp-looking teeth. Fucking snake demons, man. Seeing that he’s still nice and absorbed in his work, you get up and head for the door, calling over your shoulder that you’re gonna go to the bathroom and to not wait up for you. He just sort of shrugs, so you head out to do your business.

It doesn’t take too long, though you do get delayed a bit by taking a detour to the kitchen and grabbing a snack. You know Levi keeps food in his room, but you’re not sure you trust his attention to expiration dates.

Lo and behold, when you get back, Levi is touching the console. Not just one finger, but all ten of them. He’s even dared to pick it up off the ground.

“Leviathan…”

He whirls around, cords flopping everywhere. “Wh- It’s not what it looks like, I swear! I was just-”

“Up-bup-bup. No. Put it down,” you order, pointing at the floor. “I told you not to touch it, Levi.”

Levi hangs his head (bangs falling in his face, you really need to get him to a barber), setting it back down.

“Good,” you sniff, going over to him. “Now I have to tickle you.”

“What!?” he shrieks (ouch, your ears). “You were serious?”

“Uh, yeah? Besides, I swore on a lot of very important stuff. I don’t wanna get cursed or some shit for not keeping up my end,” you shrug, already reaching for him. “It’s called integrity, Levi.”

He sort of twitches away, but doesn’t actually step back or try to stop you. In fact, he seems to steel himself and looks you right in the eyes.

“Fine, go ahead,” he says, managing to keep his voice from wavering despite the flush he gets when you actually touch him. Impressive.

“I’m glad we could work this out,” you grin. You are going to enjoy this way too much.

Cue Levi screeching and immediately crumpling to the floor as soon as you start tickling him. ‘Some things are just too predictable,’ you think. He squirms away, but you’re well-practiced in tickling by now and sit down on his legs so he can’t escape.

All embarrassment on his part seems to be gone, because he’s no longer blushing. Well, unless you count the pinkness that you get when you laugh too damn hard to be able to breathe properly, but that’s to be expected.

“(_)! Pfft- Stop-” he grits out before you send him into another fit of laughter by directly targeting under his chin. You’re shocked he hasn’t bitten you yet.

“Nope. Not until you promise to- Whoop!” you narrowly avoid getting kneed in the junk when he kicks a leg in response to a particularly hard jab at his ribs. You twist around a bit and lock your legs around his, feeling a burst of satisfaction when his lower body goes still. “Not until you promise to be a good boy and keep working.”

“Agh! I will! I promise!”

“Hmmm,” you tease, leaning back and tickling the back of his knee. He jerks violently under you, nails scrabbling on the floor. “I don’t know if I believe that. You’ve broken that promise before, y’ know. At least twice.”

“(_)!” he begs, dragging out the last sound of your name. “Please!”

You’re starting to feel just a bit of pity. Or maybe that’s just soreness. You’re pretty sure you’re physically incapable of keeping him subdued for much longer, damn his long limbs. But you’re not done with your power play.

“How about a deal,” you sigh, letting up for a moment. You keep him trapped under you and a hand threateningly poised at his stomach. “I’ll let you go if you, ‘A)’ promise to be a good boy and keep working, and ‘B)’ say that I am the best, most effective, and smartest tutor in all three realms. Sound good?”

He nods, looking up at you with watery eyes. “O-Okay.”

“Good!” you grin brightly. “Oh, and you also have to say that I’m better than you at video games.”

Levi huffs, trying to sit up so he can yell at you with more leverage. “No way! You’re not-”

You cut him off by pushing up his shirt and resuming your tickling.

This continues for some time, and actually ends up wasting more time than his games would have.

Levi fails the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new tumblr now please go check it out uwu  
> https://slimysnaildaddy.tumblr.com/  
> Please give me attention lol quarantine is driving me mad and I need to occupy my brain with headcanons


	4. Satan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satan!

Ah, another peaceful evening in Bikini Bottom. I mean, another peaceful evening in the Devildom. Same thing, right? I mean, they’re both well below sea level.

Normally, saying that it’s a ‘peaceful’  _ anything _ in the Devildom is a bold and heinous lie, but this time it’s actually true. Mammon is out of the house (working a late shift at Hell’s Kitchen to try and pay off some of his bills), Asmo is out at the Fall (probably getting a lot of attention), Levi is holed up in his room with a new game, Lucifer is out running errands for Diavolo, and the twins have disappeared to some field somewhere so Belphie can nap when he’s supposed to be helping Beel keep his lap times. All in all, it’s quite serene without everyone causing chaos. I know it’s ironic to say so, but you’re actually quite pleased with the peace and quiet for once.

Well… you  _ were _ pleased with it. Now you’re just bored. Unbelievably bored. Even things you normally do to pass the time aren’t interesting to you. Scrolling through various feeds, watching cat videos, and even reading fanfic… All have failed to hold your attention for more than a few minutes at a time. It’s almost depressing. You find yourself almost wishing for someone to bust in your room.

Wait…

Cat videos.

Cats.

Satan is home.

Hell yes, you have found what you’re going to do today. You pack up your school-provided laptop and pat yourself on the back for being a genius. Heading on over to Satan’s room, you pray you catch him in-between books or tv shows. Easier to get him to agree to watch something new with you. You knock on his door, snorting at the deep and put-upon sigh you hear as he gets up.

“Can it wait, I’m-” 

Satan stops short when he opens the door and sees you. “Oh, (_),” he quickly changes demeanor, putting on a friendly smile. “Hello. Is there something you need?”

… Interesting.

“Well,” you start, giving him a slightly suspicious look. “I’m bored.”

“Oh. Well, that’s never good,” he chuckles. “You’re known to do terrible things when you’re bored.”

“Exactly!” you grin. “And you, my lucky friend, have been selected to stop that from happening. Your sacrifice for the good of the world will be recorded in the history books.”

“I see…” He steps aside, raising an eyebrow when he sees your laptop. “And how will I be sacrificing myself today?”

“Well, I originally thought we could go for a demonic virgin sacrifice, but how about we just hang out and watch cat videos or something?”

Satan laughs and directs you to his bed, scooting a stack of books out of your way with his foot. “I never say no to cat videos. Or virgin sacrifices.”

… Well, that’s certainly a tidbit of knowledge that you could joke about for hours.

“Noted.”

You set up your laptop while he gets himself comfortable, and by the time he’s seated you’ve queued up about an hour of fluffy feline content. With a couple bunnies and whatnot mixed in for variety, of course. You both settle in (he brought over a blanket, which you both curl up under for maximum fanfic-fluff) and you hit play, ready to immerse yourself in the land of cute animals.

Unfortunately, thirty minutes later you’re still bored. Satan  _ sucks _ at commentary (he watches cat videos with such focus and intensity that he probably isn’t even thinking of talking to you), so you feel like you might as well be watching it all by yourself. To hell with this, if you’ll pardon the phrasing. You refuse to have walked all the way over here for nothing. You’re gonna have some fun at someone else’s temporary expense. We all should do what we’re talented at, y’know? Besides, you made an agreement with yourself that all of your boys will get equal treatment from now on. It’s only fair.

You carefully shift so your hand is positioned near his side, rolling your eyes when you realize he’s too immersed in the video (which currently is showing a cat rolling around in a box full of packing peanuts) to notice you’ve even moved. Well. Serves him right for being an easy target.

You tickle him. And are immediately treated to the sight of him squirming away from you (thankfully the laptop was completely seated on your lap so he doesn’t dump it on the floor) and giggling like a schoolgirl. He quickly stops and composes himself, but you’ve already seen behind the curtain.

...

You wiggle your fingers at him. He barely stifles another giggle and leans away, scowling at your fingers like he could turn them to dust purely with his rage. Actually, he probably could do that. Not that you care right now.

“Oh.”

“(_)-”

“My.”

“(_), don’t-”

“GOSH. How could you hide this from me, Satan? I thought we were friends.” You clap your hands excitedly, snap the laptop shut, set it aside, and pounce on Satan, pretending like you don’t hear him protest. 

As soon as you renew your ticklish assault he practically vibrates with how hard he wiggles around, trying helplessly to push you off of him. You know that if he truly wanted to remove your offending phalanges from his split sides, he could probably throw you across the room. So you figure you haven’t gone over the line just yet. Which means more tickles!

You feel around for some particularly sensitive areas, eventually having to throw the blanket off since your legs keep getting caught in it. And once you do, you learn something you never though you’d know. A secret of the ages, kept hidden for millenia. Only two other people in all three realms knows this secret and keeps it carefully, under threat of gruesome torture by the Avatar of Wrath himself.

Satan is most ticklish at the back of his knees.

Even just running your fingers behind his knees,  _ through  _ his pants, sends him bursting into panicked helpless laughter and kicking frantically. You barely manage to avoid his scrawny right shin nailing you right in the head. You do not avoid the left one. Fortunately he kicks you in the ribs instead of the head, but it still hurts like fuck and sends you tumbling off the bed ass-over-teakettle, knocking over a stack of books (which, by the way, is the entire anthology of ‘100 Ways to Play With Your Cats; A Simple Guide with Step-by-Step Instructions and Illustrative Diagrams’, volumes 1 through 34) on your way down.

After that there’s a lot of apologizing (mostly on his end) and glaring (from both of you, but mostly you) and grumbling in pain (entirely you). He grabs you some ice, pressing it to your now mildly sore ribs.

“(_)?”

You glower at him as if your current situation isn’t one hundred percent your fault. “What.”

He smiles very friendly-like, giving you a soft pat on the head. “You kind of deserve this. Now, let’s finish that video.”

He’s not wrong. But you refuse to admit that to yourself. Clearly the other brothers are at fault for leaving you alone and bored. They should know better by now.

It’s impossible to be angry, even fake angry, at Satan right now, though. Not with the mental image of him giggling frantically and twitching around as you tickle him is so fresh in your mind.

Totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this sucks lol. I'm American, and the 4th of July and the days around it are a rough time for me. Plus I've been getting lots of asks on my new Tumblr by y'all WONDERFUL people (not complaining!! Keep em coming!!!) so I hope that's a decent supplement. And finally, I've been delayed because MORE NEW CONTENT I'm foaming at the mouth Solmare please I have no glowsticks have mercy I am in AGONY
> 
> had to edit cause i realized it yeeted all my formatting thank god i write this shit up in google docs


	5. Asmodeus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: I really just like having these end in chaos and with very expensive belongings being damaged so excuse the terrible ending lmFAO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to come out I just bought a new keyboard and mouse and I’m still getting used to the new layout. And also I’ve decided it's officially time for me to get my GED so that's eating up some of my time.

The room is silent, aside from the soft crackling of the fireplace and a soft and rapid  _ shff shff shff  _ sound. You are on the verge of making a decision. A very important decision that will likely affect the rest of your life. As if one of them might jump out of the box and give you your answer, you scan over the rows of delicate glass bottles.

Perhaps you could go with red? No, that wouldn’t do. Neither would white. Or blue. Or green. You see where I’m going with this, right?

Normally, nail polish colors wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but considering the squad you’ve been running with and their tendency to take almost anything you do as a sign of favoritism you think that going all matchy matchy with any of them might cause problems. It’s cute, but sometimes it’s just tiring. Like that one time you wore a scarf Asmo had given you and Mammon pouted and gave you the silent treatment for the rest of the week. It was Saturday, so it only lasted for about 16 hours, but still.

“If you don’t choose within the next five minutes I’m going to pick for you.”

You look up at Asmo, who’s currently filing his nails with a very imperious air and looking at you from under his eyelashes. Ah yes, his patented look of aloof-but-also-desperate-for-your-attention. Your favorite.

You chuck a pumice stone at him (he catches it with his annoyingly accurate demon reflexes), sticking out your tongue mockingly. “I’m  _ trying _ . Get off my ass about it. Not like  _ that _ ,” you quickly backpedal. Asmo had perked up the second you said the A word. Though it could have been the ‘get off’ part that got his attention. He pouts, but you ignore it in favor of complaining. “It’s hard to choose. Like, first of all. Why the fuck do you have so many different colors?”

“(_), darling. Are you really asking me that?” he raises an eyebrow at you, wiggling his toes (which are freshly painted with a shimmering holographic pink) and going back to filing his nails with a haughty sniff. “You’re being dramatic, just pick a color.”

_ You’re _ being dramatic? You snort, grabbing a few bottles at random. “Look who’s talking, Mister ‘I only got five million likes on my last devilgram selfie so now I must cry on my bed and eat raw cookie dough until someone gives me attention or I get food poisoning’.”

Asmo gasps theatrically. “How dare you! You know I would  _ never _ risk food poisoning.” He scowls at you like you’ve just insulted his mother, which he probably doesn’t even have. “Can you imagine? All that sweating. Not even being able to get up and do my skincare routine. Not to mention the-...” he shudders, “You know what? I’m not even going to finish that thought. It was  _ edible _ cookie dough. And I only did that one time!”

“Uh huh. Still dramatic as fuck, and you know it,” you grumble. He just rolls his eyes and shifts into a more comfortable position, so you decide to ignore him and lay out your selection of bottles by his feet so you can get to work making your very important choice.

Hmm. None of them have black nails, do they? Oh, wait. Diavolo does. Drat. You go to pick up the bottle so you can put it with the other rejects, but your fingers brush up against the underside of Asmo’s foot. He flinches  _ hard _ and lets out and adorable squeak. You freeze. He freezes.

The room is silent, aside from the soft crackling of the fireplace. You are on the verge of making a decision. A very important decision that will likely affect the rest of your life.

Eh, fuck it. The bottle says it’s a quick-dry polish. Besides, you know his feet are clean. Not sure you could say the same for some people, but you know he has a 15-step routine just for that.

You pounce, tickling like your life depends on it. Asmo shrieks like some sort of especially angry vulture and tries worming away from you, but you manage to get an arm around his scrawny legs and hold him in place so you can continue tickling. He kicks at you and misses, so to avoid getting booted right in the face you move up to the underside of his knees, knowing he will regret wearing shorts on this day. Asmo shrieks again (your ears are already ringing) and slides unceremoniously off the couch, taking half the mani-pedi supplies with him.

You silently lament the cotton balls before climbing down next to him and resuming your attack. You aim for the stomach, pushing up his shirt for better access, and he finally starts laughing properly instead of just squealing.

It is adorable.

You don’t miss the fact that he’s stopped struggling in earnest, but you decide not to examine that too much (we all already know it’s because he will happily take this opportunity for a sweaty romp, even if it’s just tickles) and keep it going. As it turns out, he’s especially ticklish under his chin. Of course, once you’ve figured that out, you decide that you have to exploit this weakness as much as possible.

It’s simply how things are.

So, naturally, the best way to exploit his ticklishness is to climb on top of him, pin him down, and give him the tickling of his life. He wiggles around, pushing at your hands, trying to roll out from under you, and giggling hysterically. His once-perfect hair is now ruined by the thick plush rug, which will surely earn you a scolding from him later.

The sacrifices you have to make to add a little more joy to your life. Oh well. It’s totally worth it.

Though perhaps you  _ should  _ have examined his reasoning for not struggling too much, because not a whole five minutes of tickling later Asmodeus has managed to slide his arms out from under himself. He wraps said arms around you and pulls you very,  _ very _ close to him. I’m talking nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest close. The proximity (and perhaps a little bit of magic on his part) leaves you temporarily stunned, so he takes the opportunity to catch his breath.

“You know, (_),” he starts, panting just a tiny bit. “If you wanted to pin me down like that, you could have just asked. You know I’d be more than happy to take you up on it whenever you like~” Asmo punctuates that with a wink. The realization hits

… You are an idiot. You cannot believe you didn’t see this coming. You have been a fool and a jester. And you are really not completely sure how to react to this situation. Do you get up and drag him to his room? Do you scramble away from him and feign innocence? Do you drag him to  _ your _ room? Do you give him a good solid eye-roll and move on with your life?

Okay, you are overthinking things. You take a deep breath and sit up, scooting off of him.

He gives a little laugh and sits up as well. “So is that a yes?” he asks hopefully, sidling up next to you.

And in doing so, he plants his ass right into a puddle of deep red nail polish, leaking slowly from a bottle (with a distractingly long and spike-shaped lid) that must have cracked open when it hit the floor. He looks down, sees the newly formed stain on his presumably quite expensive designer shorts, sees the cracked bottle, and lets out a gasp of horror like none you’ve ever heard before.

“MY LOUBOUTIN NAIL POLISH! OH NO, OH NO, OH  **_NO!!!_ ** ” He cries, scrambling to sop it up with cotton balls like he can somehow pour it back into the bottle and salvage it.

You blink, moving to help him clean it up. “Shit, man. Think you can just… buy another one?”

He stops, giving you a harsh look. “(_). Do you have any idea how  _ expensive _ this is?”

You cringe and decide to shut your damn mouth.

After much panic and several paper towels hastily grabbed from the kitchen by you, you two manage to get the floor cleaned up and he strips his pants off (thankfully he grabs another pair, you don’t think your brain would be kind to you if he just started walking around pantsless like that) to put them in the wash.

There is a long conversation about how you are definitely not allowed near his most expensive products if you’re in a mischievous mood. So, never.

Eventually, you simply picked a color at random, which happened to be a sunshine yellow. And as you predicted, someone made a fuss about it.

“HAH! They’re wearin’ MY color! Told you I’m their favorite! Uh, Not that it means anythin’ to me, pshhh.”

Lucifer, completely ignoring Mammon shoving your fingers in his face, simply gave you a stern look and asked you for a  _ very detailed _ explanation as to why the floor in the parlor has a curious red stain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edible cookie dough is a thing. You can make it by replacing the eggs with another binding agent (like very well mashed banana or milk) and toasting/baking your flour before making the dough with it. You can also buy it at some stores, but MAKE SURE it is advertised as edible. The eggs aren’t the only problem, raw flour can also give you salmonella so make sure that shit is heat-treated!  
> Louboutin nail polish is also a thing, and is ridiculously expensive. I almost never paint my nails but I too would start screaming if I wasted over 100 USD worth of nail polish, just like poor Asmo here.


	6. Beelzebub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Public displays of affection are not allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry this one took so long and probably didn't come out great lol HOWEVER. Huge massive thank you and giant shout out to the one and only L who appears in my comment sections! I spent days with him discussing not only this chapter and how best to go about writing it, but other fics I’m working on AND some new ideas which will be in the works once I finish this one. L, you’re an absolute treasure and I appreciate you very much!!!

Ah, Majolish. A pristine store with all sorts of fun things. With goodies ranging from jewelry to clothing to various self-care products, it’s basically Asmodeus’s second home as well as the current setting of your adventures in the Devildom. You’ve been brought along for the ride because your recent escapades have put you squarely on his shit-list and he’s decided he must torment you by making you pay for a new bottle of nail polish (and a new pair of shorts) for him. Your wallet may never recover. Conversely, Beel’s along for the ride because he’s strong and makes a good bag carrier. He seems perfectly content with this, not even bothered at his pack mule status. It may have something to do with Asmo having promised him (but not you) a nice hearty meal, but you digress. 

Currently, you are being dragged (literally, you’ve given up on trying to keep pace) through the store by the Avatar of Lust, a small group of about five demons goggling confusedly at your little trio. Beel is trailing behind with a small pile of clothing Asmo unceremoniously dumped in his arms and peering interestedly at perfumes and lotions that are intended to smell of things like cookies, coconut, or vanilla. You’re pretty sure he’s considering cracking open a bottle of face scrub and giving it a taste. A raised eyebrow doesn’t cow him even a little bit.

You slide to a stop in front of a large display showing off rows and rows of dainty glass bottles filled with nail polishes of every color you can imagine. And a few you couldn’t imagine before this moment, just for good measure. ‘Magic is truly an impressive thing,’ you think to yourself. Or at least you would think it to yourself, except Asmo drops your hand and takes you by the shoulders, pointing you at the rack and instructing you to find a replacement for his nail polish.

“It had better be the right one. I will _know_ , understand?” he warns ominously before turning away, plucking his haul out of Beel’s arms, and flouncing off to go try on all of the clothing he’s picked out. And probably to take steamy selfies in the mirror and post them on various sites.

You look up at Beel, already dreading having to go through this entire display. He looks at you. And you look at him. And he looks at you. It gets a little weird, so you shake yourself a bit and look at the rack. 

“Okay,” you tell Beel, peering at labels and looking at lids. “We’re looking for red nail polish with a huge spiky-looking lid on it.”

He purses his lips and nods. “It shouldn’t be that hard to find,” he says, sifting through the bottles up at his eye level, so you squat down and go for the ones at the bottom.

Hmm. Sally Hansen? Nope. O.P.I.? Nope. Chanel? Damn, that’s a large price tag, but nope. Zoya? Oooh, it’s vegan-safe, but that’s not the right one-

“Found it!” Beel cheers, holding out a hand to help you out of your squat. You take it and let him haul you to your feet, then look up at where he’s pointing. Sure enough, on the very top shelf is a neat collection of Louboutin nail polishes, aligned like toy soldiers with their stiletto caps sticking up proudly. Somehow you get the sense that they know they’re the most expensive brand on display, and they’re convinced they deserve the prestigious position they’ve been given at the very top.

The very top. You cringe. The display is at least a foot and a half taller than Beel, which is saying quite a bit. He doesn’t seem to care though.

“I’ll get all the red ones. That way we can figure out which one is the one Asmo wants, right?” He says, not even waiting for your answer before he lifts up on his tippy-toes and starts plucking out any red bottles he sees, handing them to you so you can sort them out. You just sort of blink at him, watching him stretch up to see them better. Huh. His shirt is riding up quite a bit.

The rotten part of your brain resurfaces again. That’s a lot of exposed skin, after all. It sure would be a shame if someone were to…

Tickle it.

Setting the bottles on a nearby display table, you resign yourself to the fact that you cannot help yourself at this point. Honestly, it’s a miracle your self-control extends to waiting for him to finish grabbing one of the bottles before you pounce. And pounce you do, wrapping one arm around Beel’s waist to keep him from tipping over too easily and using the other to attack the divot between his hip and stomach with your waggling fingers. He makes a strangled grunt of confusion and drops back onto his feet with a solid **thwump** , nearly dropping the bottle he’s holding to the floor.

You continue tickling, using his new stability to your advantage so you can use both hands. Beel sort of wiggles a bit, but he doesn’t laugh.

You find yourself disappointed, but never fear! Everyone’s ticklish somewhere. Even Lucifer. (Though he appears to be ticklish everywhere.) Instead of the hips, you move up to tickle around his sides, but no dice there either.

“(_)? What are you doing?”

You squint up at him, going for the neck now. “Tickling you, duh,” you scoff.

He places his hands over yours, moving them away from him before you can protest. “I’m not ticklish there,” he says simply, like he’s reciting the news to you.

“You’re no fun,” you pout. He did say ‘there’, so maybe… Hm. “So where are you ticklish? I know I’ve gotten you to laugh a couple times!”

He considers for a moment, still holding your hands. There’s a small ruckus nearby and some clicking sounds, but you ignore it.

“I-” He begins, but is interrupted when his brother whips around the corner with a selection of clothing and accessories.

“There you two are!” Asmo boasts, removing your hands from Beel’s (you get the strangest the urge to growl at him or make some other dramatic display of your irritation, but that’s a little silly. And you don’t ever do silly things) so he can hand off his shopping. “Let’s see what you’ve found, hmm?”

He begins going through the collection of nail polish, inspecting them all closely. “Oh! I’ve been wanting this one. Oooh, and this one! Ah, and here’s one to replace the one _someone_ broke. This one is nice too, I might get it as well!” Asmo coos, barely even paying attention to you or the crowd you seem to have attracted.

Oh, did I not mention? There’s a whole squadron of random demons just sort of staring at you and the boys, some with devices out so they can take pictures. One of them is aiming a camera from one of those big Ipads at you, the absolute legend.

Beel looks over at them and they immediately scramble, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Huh.

You decide it’s not worth dwelling over, especially considering you never got your answer. Ignoring Asmo (and knowing you might get chewed out for it, the sacrifices you make and lengths you go to are truly remarkable), you turn back to Beel and give him your best ‘This Is Not Over And I _Will_ Be Interrogating You At My Earliest Convenience’ look before getting your attention pulled back by Asmo. Who does so by grabbing your hand and taking you over to the counter so you can pay for the nail polish (and shorts). He’s not cruel enough to make you pay for the additional ones he’s buying, at least.

Beel ends up making sure everything is packed up as you finish paying. His stomach grumbles loudly, startling a customer nearby so badly they drop a pair of diamond earrings on the floor.

“I’m hungry…” he sighs, shoving a pair of skinny jeans into a bag. A sharp sting of pity and affection shoots through your heart, and you reach up to give him a gentle, sympathetic pat between the shoulder blades.

Beel shivers, giving a sharp snort. Oh-hoh! Now that’s interesting. Your Chaos Radar is blaring. He turns toward you a bit, the motion forcing your hand to brush against him again, which just causes him to give a little choked giggle (adorable) and shiver again.

A wide, maniacal grin spreads across your face. “I guess I have my answer,” you tease before ducking behind him and plunging your fingers up the back of his shirt to tickle at his back. Beel practically convulses, exploding into deep belly laughter and buckling to the ground, almost knocking over a display of necklaces. Asmo only barely manages to rescue the bags (“You can’t just drop those, they’re glass!”) before you’ve climbed on top of Beel and pinned him to the carpet so you can continue your assault on his spine. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you file away the fact that his most ticklish spot appears to be right where his wings would connect. Useful information, that.

For the sake of subverting repetition, it’s safe to assume that you continue tickling him for much longer than the poor worker at the counter would like. There is a great deal of guffawing from him, I can tell you that. And maybe a few tears, which signal you to stop so he can catch his breath. Beel gasps, almost throwing you off of him as he tries to scramble up. A few stray giggles spill out when you pat his back again before climbing off, but he manages to stand fairly steadily.

“HEY!” a gruff voice shouts from just a short distance away. “NO TICKLING IN MY STORE!”

To make a long story short, you get kicked out on your asses. At least you got to keep everything you paid for, but Asmo pouts and complains for a moment before sighing and deciding that he’s been kicked out of stores for worse things (usually involving dressing rooms, bathrooms, and corners tucked neatly behind racks). To him, stores are like Pringles. You have to go through the whole row in one sitting, otherwise you’re a coward.

“Hey Beel,” you muse once you’ve gotten to Hell’s Kitchen (and bought your own lunch, because Asmo is stingy). “On a scale of one to ten, how ticklish is Belphie?”

He sort of smiles sharply, a lot less innocent than expected. “Nine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops somehow this ended up 300 words longer than intended. Honestly though, we’re lucky I even managed to write this, Beel baby I love you but you’re so hard to write for! Once again L I owe you my life-  
> Also meanwhile in the HOL Belphie is suffering because of twin telepathy. He’s trying to nap, (_). Stop tickling his brother! Satan’s getting a kick out of watching him twist around on the library chair, though.  
> By the way Asmo just left the pile of nail polishes on the random table MC sat them on- LMFAO


	7. Belphegor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which (_) learns of a particularly sensitive area on our resident bovine boy's body. Said bovine boy does his best impression of a teakettle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY got this one finished. Hope y'all enjoy! I'm getting more comfortable writing, so my chapters might end up getting a little longer, like this one (which is a whopping 400 or so words longer than my goal). The notes at the end of the fic go more in-depth, but for now... Enjoy tickling Belphie!

Opportunities are hard to find. This is true for a lot of things in life. To be fair, it's usually only an issue for important things like getting a job or making it big on the silver screen. But sometimes it can be little things. Indulgent things. It’s been a week since you attacked poor Beelzebub, and you’ve been looking forward to testing out his estimation of his twin’s ticklishness. Unfortunately, it seems he’s caught wind of your wicked little fingers. He’s mysteriously stopped appearing in your room in the middle of the night to monopolize your bed (and your snuggles). This can only be a sign of terrible things.

Let us set the scene.

Saturday morning. Breakfast time. A cranky Lucifer, a voracious Beel. Leviathan playing games at the table, Mammon shoveling food into his mouth like it’s his last meal. Satan and Asmo are arguing about something, but you don’t care enough to listen.

All in all, a fairly standard start to the day. You roll your eyes at their antics, being a total fucking hypocrite in doing so. Lucifer catches your gaze with a raised eyebrow.

Oh no. That's never good.

"(_),"

Now that's  _ definitely _ not good. You look over at him with oatmeal half hanging out of your mouth, putting on your best innocent expression through pure reflex. He is not impressed.

"(_)," he repeats sharply. "Could you go wake up Belphie? I refuse to let him stay in bed all day  _ again _ ."

You snort at the emphasis he places on the word 'again', scooping the oatmeal off your chin and wiping your face. You just don't wanna listen to Asmo's disgusted noises because you dared to talk with your mouth full.

"Why me? He’s  _ your _ brother, bird dude,” you grin, watching Lucifer’s face turn sour. He opens his mouth, probably to give you some snarky response, but you beat him to the punch. “Alright, alright,” you sigh, getting up. Some people just can’t take a joke.

He doesn’t even thank you, just glares at you as you get up and leave the room to go hunt down the world’s laziest demon.

You check all the usual hiding places one might find a sleeping Belphie; the twins’ room, the attic, the parlor, under your bed, on top of the chandelier in the foyer, in one of the larger wardrobes, cupboards, or laundry hampers. Hell, one time you found him in the dryer. But no dice in any of those places. And you got powdered detergent all over your hands because somebody (Mammon) knocked over the box and didn’t bother to clean it up.

Putting your hands on your hips as if there’s anyone around to telegraph your annoyance to, you huff. Honestly, his habit of taking naps in the stupidest places is one of the greatest inconveniences of your life. Especially when he somehow manages to find his way into your room despite the locked door. You  _ really _ need to invest in some sort of anti-demon security device. Maybe paint your doorway with saltwater or something. 

‘Wait,’ you think as you step into the communal bathroom to wash your hands of the detergent. ‘Does salt even work on demons?’ You’ve seen Beel eat some pretty salty foods with no ill effects. Maybe it depends on intent-

A soft whistling sound and a serpentine movement in the corner of your eye startles you back to the real world. There’s a snake-like shadow moving behind the shower curtain, catching the light at just the right angle to project onto the curtain. You panic for a moment, visceral memories of Henry 1.0 slithering after you with the intent of swallowing you whole flooding your mind. It’s only after backing into the counter and knocking a tube of toothpaste noisily into the sink do you come to your senses and notice the thick, fluffy tuft at the end of the swishing shadow.

Relaxing just a bit, you dry your hands so you can carefully tug the curtain open to reveal Belphegor, curled up with his ever-present cow spotted pillow in the tub. In his demon form, no less. His tail is curling around itself in the air gracefully, giving off the impression of a truly serene nap. The tip of his horn is hooked over the edge of the tub, but you’ve known him long enough to understand that they don’t really impede his determination to nap in whatever position he damn well pleases. The snoozy demon must be extremely comfortable, despite the unusual bed he’s found himself in and the sharp whistling of his nose when he inhales. He only reflexively shifts form like this when he’s truly zen and blitzed out on his over-active melatonin production.

Well. Time to change that. After all, he just scared the shit out of you with his annoyingly sinuous and way-more-mobile-than-any-bovine-tail-should-be tail. You deserve compensation, damnit! And you’re going to get it in the form of tormenting him.

Opportunities are hard to find, but this one seems to have gently laid itself upon your lap like a friendly cat wanting lots of petting and cuddles.

Trying not to think of petting (lest the temptation to bury your face in his soft fur get the better of you), you very delicately catch the end of Belphie’s tail. It shudders in your grip for a moment and you see his face scrunch up, but he relaxes a moment later with a single flick of his tail-tip. Good, he’s sleeping pretty deeply. Making sure to not step on him or knee him in the side, you swing one leg into the tub and straddle the edge of it so you can reach him better. He twitches violently when you pull the collar of his hoodie back and you freeze, sure you’re about to be caught and strangled or something.

A tense few heartbeats pass before Belphie stills again, which you take as your cue. You slowly gather up all the fur (Hair? Fur? It’s long enough to be hair, but you think it’s technically fur. Whatever. It’s strands of keratin and very plush and that’s all that truly matters to you) into one tight, brushlike handful and bring it to his neck.

Let the tickling commence.

At first, he simply titters groggily and paws at your hand softly, probably assuming that he’s just dreaming it. Or maybe that he’s getting some sort of twin-telepathy shit again, considering the video Satan sent you while you were on your way home last week. You bite your lip very hard, trying not to either snicker or gush over how cute he is. Focus! Taking a deep breath, you move to tickle the tip of his nose with the very ends of his tail fluff. He huffs, jerking his head away from you. His horn clacks loudly against the tub, seeming to shock him at least partially awake.

A pair of eyes crack open, blink a few times. Belphegor looks at you and you can practically hear the gears in his poor widdle head grinding against each other.

“(_)...? What... What are you-”

You give him your smuggest smirk, get a better hold on his tail, and shove his shirt up to continue his torment. The moment his fur brushes against his stomach, Belphie convulses as if he’s been struck by lightning and chokes on a deep gulp of air. You manage to move your leg out of the way just as his hip goes crashing into the side of the tub, a loud thunk resonating through the bathroom.

Ouch, that had to hurt.

A quiet rumble reaches your ears, so you move your gaze back up to his face. His expression holds a promise of vengeance, but of course, when directed at you this can only be taken as a challenge.

Well, challenge accepted. You release his tail, watching him curl it around his leg protectively. Another wicked grin crawls across your face as you notice that his shirt (and accompanying hoodie) is still pushed up. He seems to realize this at the same time and freezes for a split second.

Another opportunity.

"(_), don't you  _ dare _ -" Belphie manages to grit out, quickly pushing his hoodie back over his exposed belly.

Too bad for him that you're a crafty motherfucker. One who immediately goes for the jugular. Or rather, one who takes advantage of the hoodie getting pulled down to make for an attack, the cute little cow spots on the side of his neck being a perfect target. They seem to be remarkably sensitive, based on his reaction/ He shrieks (ouch, your fucking eardrums, what the shit, no humanoid creature should be able to make that noise, you don’t care if he’s a demon or not, that’s the most ungodly thing you’ve ever heard and you think you might need to get Simeon to do a blessing on your ears after that because it’s probably put a curse on you) and moves in such a way that you think for just a moment that he might be spontaneously turning into a worm.

It takes a second to register (partially because your ears are genuinely ringing now, that hellish screech probably reverberated through the whole house), but you realize he’s laughing. It’s just such strained, breathless laughter that he’s barely even making noise, tears forming at the corner of his squeezed-shut eyes.

Honestly? Precious. And maybe a little concerning, so you somewhat reluctantly pull away to give him room to catch his breath. He deserves a reward for not decapitating you for your tickle attack, but you just pat his head while he takes a few much-needed gasps of air and wipes his eyes.

“So…” you start, hoping to break the ice. “Beel was right, you  _ are _ pretty damn ticklish,” you say with a grin.

The scowl you receive could crack mountains.

“I hate you,” Belph grumbles, sitting up and propping his chin up on your shoulder with a little more downward force than necessary. “You’re the worst. I take back my pact.”

You pet his hair again, trying to get it to stop looking quite so much like a bird nest (and narrowly avoiding getting stabbed in the jaw with the tip of his curly ram horn, but I digress). “Nah, you don’t hate me. Oh, and speaking of you hating stuff, Lu-lu asked me to come get you for breakfast.”

He groans dramatically, shoving his face into your neck. “Ughhh. So this is his fault. Should’ve known.”

‘Haha, that’s right,’ you think. ‘Blame someone else for your problems, Belphie. Pay no attention to the human behind the curtain.’

Instead of saying that aloud like a total fucking moron with a brain made of cheese, instead you say something much more intelligent. “Yep. And I looked everywhere for you. Tickles are revenge for all the effort you forced me to put into finding you.”

Okay, maybe not that intelligent.

“Hmph,” he snorts. “I can respect that. I’ll get you back later, when I actually give a shit,” Belphie sighs, releasing you and climbing out of the tub. He doesn’t offer to help you, so you get up under your own steam and give him his pillow.

He takes it, heading out of the bathroom (and not holding the door for you when you follow him). “Oh, and (_)?”

You look at him. His tone suggests he’s going to say something that you’re not allowed to argue.

“Delete that video Satan sent you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know yet, you can find me over at slimysnaildaddy on tumblr! It is hardcore self-promo time. Feel more than free to send me anything there, I'm very nice. I promise! My ask box is always open for socialization, even if I'm not actively taking requests.
> 
> Some of you might not know this, but Slapass was my first published fic EVER, and the fact that my writing has gotten so much positive feedback makes my rotten, decayed little soul do a big smiley face. Seriously, you should see the thing grinning. I keep it in a jar on my nightstand. Okay, enough about the soul-in-a-jar. We don't want it to get a big ego. 
> 
> More importantly, all of your lovely comments have made me feel more comfortable in the possibility of loosening the formulaic structure of the Audacity series, including loosening the chapter-length goals I've set for myself (I've been determined to make sure everyone gets about 1500-1600 words in their chapter, which is a rule I've broken several times) and potentially shifting around the order of characters. What do y'all think of this?
> 
> My increased workload from my blog (wink wink nudge nudge) delayed this, but I think I fixed the problem there. However, this does beg the question:
> 
> Should I focus more on filling out requests over there or should I focus more on my proper fanfics here on ao3, of which I have quite a few in the works? I aim to please the people who read my writing, y'all deserve it.


	8. felt like updating, might delete later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha meme title

So y'all might have noticed that I've been a bit slow updating this, but that's actually because I have a couple projects I've been working on! One is a commission that I will be uploading on my other ao3 account, the others are larger fics that I've brainstormed with the help of some of my lovely friends. Fortunately, much of my issue with having too large of a workload from tumblr has been resolved by simply cutting down how many characters I do per request, so there's that.

Once I've finished the commission (which should hopefully be soon) I'll be back to work finishing up this fic. Once I'm done with Tickled pink, though, should I focus on the next installment of Audacity or should I prioritize the other fics while slowly updating Audacity when I have time.

Current other projects I'm trying to start are:

  1. A series in which several party games and challenges are played with the various OM boys. Currently in the running is a full-sized fic involving a slightly more devious version of 7 Minutes in Heaven, though I have other ideas in mind as well. Like the chapstick challenge.
  2. It'll be most likely in the Audacity continuity, but since it's not going to be the same format it'll be its own series.
  3. The long, LONG fic I'm writing that I've already started publishing, involving my lovely squid boy P3-RCY and his adventures in trying to keep his robotic nature under wraps in the Devildom.
  4. A shorter fic involving MC pranking Lucifer... Or rather, attempting to.
  5. A fic in which an MC with Tourette's syndrome (which I have) is adjusting to life in the Devildom. Featuring lots of poor Barbatos having to clean up tea :(



I understand that most of my readers are here from my Audacity fics, but I do want to branch out because I have so many other ideas. I'm getting just a tad burned out on Audacity and coming up with fresh ideas for ways for our lovely ass-slapper to mess with the guys in new and interesting ways is not especially sustainable.

So, let me know what you think! I will most likely delete this chapter once I've finished this fic entirely but I'll keep your suggestions.


	9. Maybe I’m Back Please Enjoy This Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m fucking BACK BABEYYYY well. At least for now. Who knows what the future holds! Life has been wild, as I’m sure most of you can attest to. I had some free time though, and I couldn’t get parts of this out of my head. And a bit of motivation! Anyway. Enough about me BACK TO THE STORY.

You are nefarious. You are powerful. You are clever. You cannot believe your brain is as huge and nebulous as it is.

Diavolo ( _Lord_ ) is practically vibrating with excitement, looking like he may just sort of spontaneously burst into a brilliant shower of cupcake sprinkles or something equally impressive. It’s honestly kind of endearing, especially coming from basically the most powerful demon to exist. He grins over at you, shifting slightly to make sure his broad shoulders are hidden carefully behind the statue pedestal he’s tucked himself up against. Your victim is completely unsuspecting. You press your lips together to avoid snickering, knowing full well it would turn into an evil laugh that would absolutely expose your position behind a matching pedestal across the hall from Diavolo’s own hiding spot.

Not that it would matter. You know the demon in the room ahead of you probably knows exactly where you are and what you’re up to. If his excellent hearing didn’t tip him off, his super epic time powers probably did. You get the distinct impression that he’s along for the ride, but that may just be wishful thinking. Who knows? Peering up around the granite shoulder of some long-dead demon noble who apparently had horns shaped like actual macaroni noodles, you search for Barbatos’s fancy tailcoat. And you aren’t disappointed, though you do find yourself unnerved. Primarily because the second your eyes land on him, he looks you right in the face and raises his eyebrow _just_ enough to be visible from your angle. And then he gives a quick glance in Diavolo’s direction before calmly going back to watering a lush potted plant that moves just a little bit more than you think it probably should. You blink as it curls some sort of vine around the horn of another nearby statue, causing Barbatos to sigh and begin untangling it before it can pull said bust into the giant split that’s suddenly appeared in the plant’s trunk. He mumbles something and tosses a piece of meat he produced from somewhere mysterious into the plant’s new mouth, sounding exasperated.

You should’ve known he’d be onto you.

Here’s the plan you’ve worked out with Diavolo:

Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom, Lord of Demons, is going to quickly step out and distract Barbatos. Knowing him, it’ll probably include a hearty clap on the shoulder and a nice big smile and a very firm grip that brooks no room for moving out of his presence as he greets Barbatos with friendly ease.

And you are going listen for the keyword to step out as quietly as possible, circle around behind Barbatos, and sneak your hands under his nice dapper jacket and tickle him until he is nothing more than a helpless puddle on the floor while his boss holds him in place for you. Simple, right? Right.

You give the signal to Diavolo (which is simply nodding and doing some gestures that you saw in an action movie with Marines in it once) and his face goes completely serious as he nods at you before breaking out into a practiced, warm smile and stepping out of his hiding spot.

You watch carefully as Dia does exactly as predicted, placing a hand on Barbatos’s shoulder and asking him how his work for the day is going.

“Barbatos! I see you’re taking care of Lola here,” he chuckles, reaching up to run a finger along one of the plant’s watermelon striped leaves. It curls around his wrist, straining to pull his hand off his arm. “She’s growing up nicely! I’m glad we switched over to organic hellbender meat.”

Barbatos nods and smiles placidly, coaxing the plant to let go of his Prince with a fireplace poker from beside the pot. “Yes,” he agrees, giving Lola (you don’t even bother to question that the apparently murderous plant has a name or that it’s so sweet, it’s far from the weirdest thing in this castle) another chunk of meat that gets quickly devoured. “Soon we’ll able to display her closer to the front of the house.”

Diavolo laughs heartily, which is the only way he ever laughs, and gives Lola’s pot a solid pat that nearly gets him captured again. “I hope so! Maybe she’ll discourage thieves.”

You instantly know what thieves he’s talking about. Or, well. Thief. A certain white-haired friend of yours who has fingers so sticky he might as well walk around with his hands in barrels of molasses. But more importantly, you know the cue he’s just given you. Honestly, you admire his managing to slip the codeword (“Thieves”) into that conversation so seamlessly, even though it probably wasn’t really that hard. Sliding out from behind the macaroni lord, you circle around the demons. Neither of them looks over at you, though you know it must be sorely tempting to Diavolo. You’re quite pleased with his self-control, proud that you could persuade him so easily with your puppy dog eyes to not look at you and, I quote word for word, ‘ruin the surprise’.

The surprise is not ruined.

You sidle right up next to them and slowly reach your hands out towards the demons, silently praying to some random angel who’s very tired of hearing your stupidity that you don’t screw this up.

Here’s the plan you’ve worked out:

Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom, Lord of Demons, is going to quickly step out and distract Barbatos. Knowing him, it’ll probably include a hearty clap on the shoulder and a nice big smile and a very firm grip that brooks no room for moving out of his presence as he greets Barbatos with friendly ease.

And you are going listen for the keyword to step out as quietly as possible, circle around behind Diavolo, and sneak your hands under his nice dapper jacket and tickle him until he is nothing more than a helpless puddle on the floor while his butler carefully ignores your antics to leave an opening for you. Simple, right? Right.

And this is what makes you a liar.

Your hands slip around Dia’s waist, under his jacket, and up to his lower stomach. And you tickle him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Which, considering your proximity to Lola, Plant O’ Death, it might just be. The sound of his shocked and completely unstifled snort of laughter would probably make for an absolute dogshit funeral dirge, though. You quickly scoot up against him and wrap an arm around his hips so he can’t twist or flail around as easily before starting to attack his side. He wails, sounding extremely betrayed (which he is, but you don’t feel too bad about that to be quite honest) and letting go of Barbatos’s shoulder to swat helplessly at your hands.

Barbatos takes the opportunity to step away so as not to get caught in the crossfire of the Royal Panic Flailing Of Frantic Ticklishness. Quite wise of him. Lola takes the opportunity to instinctively help a fellow predatory creature by delightedly curling her(?) vines around the ketchup prince’s arm again and holding him down as he struggles and giggles in a way that is entirely unexpected from someone of his stature and entirely expected from someone of his friendly and cute disposition. Quite sweet of her. Though it’s possible she’s just taking advantage of his sudden weakness so she can gnaw at his bones. You’re not too concerned, Dia’s pretty robust and you don’t think he’s going to go out via horribly named killer plant. Besides, you’re far too focused on the ego boost that subduing the, as previously mentioned, basically the most powerful demon to ever exist. Purely with your wicked little tickly fingers! 

You are absolutely wretched. You are nefarious. You are a genius. You are about to be crushed to death by like 300 lbs (136 kg) of pure infernal muscle. Seriously, Diavolo manages to untangle himself from the plant and the lack of an equal and opposite reaction to his tugging sends him stumbling towards you. You barely sidestep him as he goes crashing rather loudly to the floor, but like a flash you’re already on him and continuing to tickle, this time sitting on his waist and shoving your hands down the gap between his lapels and going right for the chest. Because of course. You need to get revenge on that thing for nearly breaking your nose, after all. Obviously. Soon enough, his frantic and surprised giggles turn into deep, bellowing laughter that reverbs through your very bones and the rest of the large display room like a bass-boosted stereo. It’s weirdly pleasant, like a sort of full-body ASMR response. You decide not to focus on that, instead smacking away his hand as he goes to tug your arm out of his coat. 

An amused noise that was not quite completely concealed by a gloved hand reminds you that you still have a witness, and you look up to see Barbatos, pressing his knuckles to his chin as he does when he’s thinking. Shockingly, he’s visibly straining not to laugh. Your surprise at his lack of composure earns you the experience of getting knocked off of Diavolo as he takes advantage of the distraction and rolls out from under you. Barbatos takes a deep breath and shakes his head, sighing at your nonsense as if he hadn’t enabled it and apparently enjoyed it quite thoroughly. You stick your tongue out at him as Diavolo stands up, pouting down at you and then at Barbatos.

“How could you?” he asks his loyal servant, looking for all the world like he’d just watched Homeward Bound or experienced something equally anguish-inducing. “You planned this together, didn’t you?”

You snort and give your best shit-eating grin, getting up and flexing your fingers. You don’t miss how Dia eyes your hands suspiciously and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. “Nah. Right, Barbie?”

Barbatos raises an eyebrow at the Mattel branded nickname but confirms your assertion. “That’s correct. I had no part in planning this… Prank,” he says as he bows to Diavolo. “I was simply doing my job.”

Technicalities are fun, aren’t they? After all, you were the one who planned it. All he had to do was act as though he had no idea there was anything ridiculous going on. So long as nothing got damaged or dirtied up, of course. And the floor here is perfectly swept, so not even a single mote of dust got onto Dia’s jacket. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

Smugness over perfectly executed cooperation and exploitation of Barbatos’s predictive skills aside, you also feel very proud that you managed to pull one over on the demon prince himself. You should have had a camera set up so you could put this moment into a scrapbook. Not to mention the pure satisfaction of brutally ambushing and tickling the actual prince of Hell.

Oh yes, this one will go down in the history books. At least, the ones in your brain. Which are way cooler than actual history books. Besides. You got to get in on those thicc royal demon thiddies once again. Nothing beats that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, according to Google the name Lola means “Lady of Sorrows” which is kinda metal. Not actually that horribly named, is she? Credit for Lola belongs to me hyper focusing on the Little Shop of Horror movie earlier today. The good one, with Rick Moranis. Credit for Diavolo (more specifically, his hair) being compared to ketchup belongs to my favorite real-world angel. You know who you are. And it’s not that bastard Lucifer! This chap is dedicated to you. I know you’ve been thinking about Dia a lot, and though I know this isn’t quite the thing you’ve been thinking of much regarding him lately I thought it may be fun for you to read! <3


End file.
